


Billet Doux

by Arithanas



Category: Les Trois Mousquetaires | The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Love Letters, Multi, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a friend helps you to write a love letter, sometimes they must correct your mistakes; that doesn't account, we think, for the shakiness of the penmanship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The letter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Mordioux!  
> Let's just cover the eyes of your saint patron and celebrate with a little naughty bit, shall we?

Madame,

My burning desire makes my ink flow like rivers. I must rein myself before inter you in the tangible proof of my devotion, because I’m sorely aware of the insurmountable obstacles that keep my love from reaching to you.

Fate conspires to keep us from each other. Help me, my love, to steal one hour from its cold grasp.

I can't way to taste the flavor of your secret desire; beck me on and make us happy, I beseech you.

 

 

Your devotee,

G.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is how the little billet was written...

Raoul was sitting by the window, the paper rested on one of Guiche’s tables and Raoul’s writing paraphernalia was adorably but precisely scattered around him. Armand tried to peer into the letter before Raoul dusted it, but his friend was quick to do the labor before he could understand the message.

“Always so secretive, Raoul,” Armand mocked and snapped his tongue in gentle rebuke. “One could say you are doing something sinful.”

“Not all my sinful endeavors are related to you, Armand.” Raoul was busy folding his letter. “In spite of how much do you aspirate of be my only anchor to hell.”

“Ah, Raoul,” Armand rested his weight on Raoul’s shoulders. “Don’t be cross. I want a favor that only you could render…”

De Guiche’s hands found their way into Raoul’s doublet which, fortunately, the good viscount was wearing without any of its points fastened. Raoul’s soft skin was warm and soft to the touch under the fine batiste of the shirt.

“Take off your hands, and I will endeavor to please you.”

“If you really want to please me, take off your shirt…”

Armand lowered his head to kiss Raoul’s neck. His nose caressed Raoul’s splash of freckles like so many times before, but his caresses couldn’t distract Raoul from that complicated folding pattern he always used to make his missives secure.

“I see you are not serious at all today,” Raoul extended his hand to take the sealing wax. “Let me know when you are ready to treat the subject with the seriousness it deserves.”

“Now, now,” Armand took off his hand and caressed the deeply furrow on his friend’s brow. “Don’t be cross, I say, for I won’t pester your so-called chastity if you help me write a little message for a friend of mine.”

“Have you forgotten how to write?” Raoul didn’t turn his eyes to his friend; he was too busy smearing his letter with wax.

“You style is better,” Armand retorted and twisted one of Raoul’s curls in his finger.

“You cannot know that!”

The incensed reply was filled with the dreadful implication that de Guiche had been reading his letters.

“I have reading your dispatches to the count, your tutor,” Armand laughed to himself and kissed Raoul’s crown to settle his ruffled feathers. “Seal that letter, my sweet Raoul, and lend me your hand and your beautiful handwriting.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Raoul muttered to himself and pressed the ring in his small finger to the tepid wax.

“Oh, you won’t, Raoul,” Armand replied and took a rebel turf from Raoul’s forehead. “If you write this letter the right way, you will get me out of your case for a week or so.”

“Should I understand you are playing with the honor of a poor man again?” Raoul put his letter apart and took the knife and the quill. “And you have me as your abettor.”

Armand blinked and laughed, surprised by Raoul’s candor.

“You are not holding the lady down for me, Raoul. It is entirely her choice.”

Raoul snorted his annoyance, but he couldn’t pay his friend too much attention when his hands were busy dressing the quill.

“Don’t doubt my word, Raoul,” Armand turned around the chair and planted his ass on the table. “I don’t force women to love me…”

“What passes for seduction between your lips barely makes the grade for strong-arming,” Raoul pouted and looked at the quill tip, “but, since I’m your friend…”

“And principal beneficiary of my sin, don’t forget it!”

“No one benefits from sin, Guiche.”  Raoul groaned and took another piece of paper. “Come and tell me those sinful words you want in jotted down.”

“Chère Marie…”

“This letter starts badly...”

“Write whatever you want, Raoul, provided that my intentions are clear and well acknowledged by my beautiful addressee.”

Raoul crossed himself and wrote a simple ‘Madame’ at the head of the letter. In his secret heart, the viscount was hoping this could be used as a template for future missives.

“Continue…”

“I can't wait to wet my pen in your inkwell…”

“Rude,” Raoul disapproved and nibbled the extremity of the quill.

“To be honest, I can’t wait to stab my dirk in the wound that never heals.”

“Even worse, let me think…”

De Guiche crossed his legs and tilted his head. Raoul in deep meditation was a good study for a drawing, the way his brow was kitted was adorably seasoned by the way his nose wrinkled and how his tongue danced over his pouted lower lip.

“Raoul,” Armand called and leaned over Raoul’s pensive head. “Hurry up and transcribe my passion, or I’ll kiss you until you beg me to stop.”

Raoul raised his head as if to present a complaint but his lips met Armand’s. The touch was brief, but exquisite, and so shocking in its nature —after so many shared caresses— that Raoul let go the quill and melted on the superb warmth of those lips.

“Now, Raoul, be an angel and use that feeling to let my precious adulteress know how much I yearn for a willing touch.”

“I lost…”

“Your chastity? Your shyness? Your decorum?”

“My quill…”

Armand craned his neck over Raoul’s chair and turned his face toward his shaking friend.

“And your ink,” he noted with a mischievous grin. “You should see the splatter on the floor!”

“I can’t convey your desire until I recover it…”

“I thought you could be more interested in me causing a spill, though not of ink…”

“Armand…”

“Since you demand it…”

“Absolutely.”

De Guiche rose from the table with the luxuriant movements of a cat before bending his waist and picking up the quill. Raoul rolled his eyes at the obvious display of his friend’s ass, but he regained his composure before Armand presented the quill with the deep reverence he usually displays to Monsieur.

“Now, my indolent instigator, tell her that I know her husband is an hurdle that can’t be stamp out without a whole lot of aggravation, but that I still love to mount her like a randy filly…”

“It is a mystery worse than that of the Trinity how do you get any woman’s ear…”

“I don’t stop at her ear…” de Guiche exclaimed and placed his head on Raoul’s shoulder as his friend wrote some lines.

“God knows I know,” Raoul groaned and put a neat period at the end of the sentence.

“My ancillary cupid,” de Guiche called and let his hand roam Bragelonne’s chest, “I beg you, ask her for a date when we could sin without being killed in the process.”

“Keep your hands up and spare me the pain of dispatching you before you have the opportunity of delivering the letter.”

“Be boorish if you want,” Armand said and he used his hand on his friend’s long hair, “but keep writing, Raoul.”

Raoul complied and enjoyed the petting while writing. The lines were a bit uneven and the ink was a bit blurry.

“…and tell her I would eat her cunt all night long.”

“Who is boorish now?”

“Don’t be jealous, Raoul,” Armand laughed and let his hands slip below his friend’s waist. “You know I would love to eat you too.”

Raoul put his quill in the inkwell and let out a sigh.

“Prove it.”

 


End file.
